


Lucy Was Pretty, Your Best Friend Agreed

by PrettyLittlePoutyMouth



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit references to Quinntana sex, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyLittlePoutyMouth/pseuds/PrettyLittlePoutyMouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the FaberryCon Fanfiction Fundraiser for gleekterry, who wanted Faberry in an established relationship and Rachel finding out about Quinn and Santana having sex and getting jealous. Quinn has to make it up to her. No angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucy Was Pretty, Your Best Friend Agreed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TerryB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryB/gifts).



> A/N: I know very, very little about Season 4, as I only watched “I Do,” so some of my details might be off. This is certainly AU past “I Do,” however.

The first time Quinn bought Metro North passes for herself and Rachel, they saw depressingly little use.

This second time, they’re doing their best to make up for it. Quinn has already used up one of them.

It’s like exactly what Quinn had imagined for the two of them—visiting as frequently as possible, exploring their new cities, deepening their friendship—except a year later.

It’s also what Quinn had hardly dared to fantasize about for the two of them. Falling in love—though truth be told, Quinn had been halfway there for awhile. That first kiss, with the loft blessedly empty except for the two of them. They way they’d sneak kisses for the first month or so, still getting used to the whole thing, before telling Kurt, who had smiled and hugged them both and assured he was just _so happy_ for them. And he is, they know, but is also dwelling on his own single status, and the two of them together remind him of high school, and first love.

Then, one afternoon about two weeks ago when Kurt was gone, there was the way they’d first made love in Rachel’s bed, all fumbling and trembling, and ended up panting and speechless and aching for more. They’d barely been able to stop since.

And now this weekend, about three months into their relationship, they are planning to take another step.

They are going to tell Santana.

Intuitively, Quinn _knows_ it really isn’t as big a deal as they’re making it out to be. But it _is_ important. She’s the only other person besides Kurt that it’s convenient and even really _possible_ to tell face-to-face. And one of the only other people she _wants_ to tell right now. Quinn’s hoping the rest of their mutual friends will just find out through the grapevine, or through a text from Rachel. She’s never been great at having the kinds of conversations that involve important revelations. Except with Rachel, oddly enough, or maybe not so oddly. Clearly there are _reasons_ they have always been so drawn to each other.

But though it’s _just_ Santana, and to Rachel it’s only a big deal because it’s the last person they’re telling in person, for Quinn, _just_ Santana is someone a bit more complicated.

All their lives, they have been close but not intimate. Best friends who never really confided in each other, but who were content to come together in New York to try to convince Rachel not to make a life-altering mistake. Lovers, once, who were never in love. A one-time thing that had turned into a two-time thing and, for Quinn, had turned into a revelation, a resolution of all the creeping thoughts and confined feelings kept veiled in the back of her mind. She had seduced Santana, though she is sure Santana believes she had seduced her, but it’s not something they talk about. It’s not something they _need_ to talk about.

But it’s _just_ Santana, she keeps telling herself. If anyone will understand how Quinn and Rachel are feeling, how they fell for each other, it would be her.

Especially because Santana has been a fool for love, herself. Not only with Brittany, though that’s the person Quinn always thinks of for her. But Rachel had watched as last summer, Santana had moved out of the loft to begin living with a girl she’d started seeing. It went well for a few months, and then they’d broken up messily, and yet somehow Santana ended up staying in her room at the apartment they’d shared with her acquaintances, and the ex-girlfriend had gone elsewhere. When Rachel asked if she wanted to come back to the loft, Santana had declined, reasoning that, yeah, it cost more, but at least she had _privacy_ at this new place. She could bring a girl home if she wanted and have a _room_ to take her to.

Not that she has, as near as both Rachel and Quinn can tell. Santana has been single for almost six month now.

As Rachel stands in front of the mirror and puts in earrings, Quinn comes up behind her and slides her arms around her waist. “We could just stay home and make love. Kurt will be here by the time we’re back,” she breathes into Rachel’s ear.

Rachel groans softly, eyes closing, then turns around in Quinn’s arms and kisses her hungrily. A momentarily startled Quinn is almost sure she’s won for a second, and it hadn’t even _been_ an entirely serious suggestion, until Rachel pulls away just enough to lean toward Quinn’s ear, “We promised Santana, and later? We’ll just have to be quiet.”

“Oh,” Quinn responds softly, stupidly, unable to breathe properly. She collects herself, blinking her thoughts back into order and taking a deep breath, and then helps Rachel put on her jacket, and the two of them head out to meet Santana.

They meet Santana at little place not too far away that serves decent food that isn’t out of their price range. Spring is on the way, and it’s actually blessedly mild out, though Quinn is sure it won’t be long before a surprise rainstorm rolls through. When they get to the restaurant, it’s warm and bustling, which isn’t too surprising as it’s Saturday night. Luckily, they’d made a reservation, and it turns out Santana is already seated.

She smiles at them as she rises from her seat to greet them both with hugs. It’s still a little weird to see Santana, who had always tended more toward stoic and sullen in high school, smile so genuinely and offer hugs.

“How are you guys?” she asks, “Thanks for suggesting this get-together,” she continues at Rachel, not waiting for a response to her question, “I never get to see you guys since I moved out of the loft.”

They sit together, Santana slumping forward a bit more than normal, perhaps tired. Even if she isn’t currently seeing anyone, Quinn knows she keeps busy enough that she would barely have time anyway. Rachel asks, “How are you, Santana?”

Santana shrugs and sips at her water, “Fine,” she answers evenly, “Not much going on, really. You?” And then that glint appears in her eyes, “In fact, why don’t you go ahead and spill? You said there was a reason you wanted to meet up.”

“Wanting to see you isn’t a reason?” Quinn asks, her instinct to be combative with Santana rising.

Santana chuckles a bit hollowly, “If you’d _really_ wanted to see me, you’d have arrange to meet months ago, when Quinn started coming down here a lot more.”

Quinn feels momentarily guilty, but they _had_ hung out with Santana a few times back when she and Rachel first started using their new Metro North passes this year, but, admittedly, not since she and Rachel had started kissing, then dating, then…everything else.

“I apologize, Santana,” Rachel answers sincerely, “We all should have tried to find ways to spend more time together. But you are correct, we do have something to tell you.”

Santana raises her eyebrows, “’We?’”

Rachel reaches for Quinn’s hand and Quinn, feeling awkward, allows their joined hands to be placed on the table in view of Santana. Rachel clears her throat, and Quinn just continues to watch Santana carefully as Rachel speaks, “Earlier this year…some things happened…and Quinn and I realized we have feelings for each other. Quinn and I are dating, and have been for about three months. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but it was a lot to deal with. But you’re important to both of us, and we wanted you to know.”

Quinn watches Santana, who appears a little surprised at Rachel’s pronouncement. She grins a little as Rachel starts speaking, perhaps waiting for the joke, but then her expression sobers, and by the time Rachel finishes, she is leaning back in her chair. “Wow.” She takes another sip of water, perhaps not knowing what else to do, but Rachel and Quinn find they are both waiting for more of a response. Finally, Santana says, “Man, I _am_ surprised, but now that I think about it, I _really_ shouldn’t be, huh?” She winks surreptitiously at Quinn as she says it. Quinn just rolls her eyes.

“Really?” Rachel asks, “I think it was even a shock to Quinn and myself!”

Santana chuckles, “I just know both of you well enough that…now that this is a thing, I’m really not surprised.” And she leans forward again with that tired expression, but now that Quinn sees it better, she thinks it might be closer to resigned. She remembers Kurt’s reaction, according to Rachel, that he admitted later that he was a little sad and jealous that the two of them found love past high school, but sort of _from_ high school, when he hadn’t (he had dated since Blaine, sure, but nothing very serious). She supposes Santana is probably feeling something of the same thing, being single herself for this long, and still occasionally grieving for what she wished she and Brittany could have been.

They have good conversation as they order food and begin to eat, and Rachel keeps reaching for Quinn’s hand under the table—Quinn’s hand that she is generally using to hold her fork. So Rachel strokes Quinn’s leg surreptitiously from time to time, and it makes Quinn feel anxious. She’s sure that Santana knows what’s going on.

Anxious, but also turned on. She doesn’t know if Rachel realizes how high up her leg she’s stroking.

As they’re finishing up their food, Santana eyes them and asks, a tad begrudgingly, “So how did this happen, anyway?”

A slow grin transforms Rachel’s face. “Well, as Quinn and I began to spend more time together and really formed a meaningful friendship, I began to realize that I was developing feelings for her. It was very confusing, because while I had always regarded Quinn as very beautiful, I did not think I was attracted to her in _that_ way.” Santana snorts, but not rudely, and Rachel continues, “So one night, I told her, and it turned out that she had been developing feelings for me along the way as well.”

“Actually, that’s not precisely true,” Quinn cuts in, “I’d had some feelings for Rachel I wasn’t ready to confront as far back as high school.”

Rachel looks at her with wonder in her eyes, and slowly begins to beam, but Santana’s little laugh interrupts the moment, “Well, _that’s_ not surprising. Quinn is really the least surprising part of all this.”

“Wait, did you know about that? About Quinn…having feelings in high school?”

“No, although _that’s_ really not all that surprising either. I just knew about Queer—I mean Quinn—having a gay side already.”

Rachel frowns, glancing at Quinn, “I thought you said you hadn’t told anyone about being gay yet.”

Santana laughs a bit louder this time, “She didn’t _tell_ me so much as _showed_ me.”

When Rachel just gazes at her in confusion, Santana seems to realize she’s said something unwise, and her demeanor changes immediately. Her posture changes, and she’s sitting up straight, her expression becomes smooth and mild, and she begins to eat the rest of the food on her plate, as if hoping she can keep her mouth full so she won’t have to talk.

Rachel turns her confused gaze to Quinn and asks, “Did you guys like…make out or something in high school? Oh! Or did Brittany make out with you?” The thought that it could have been Brittany seems to make Rachel feel better, as if this is a natural occurrence.

“Not in high school,” Quinn says quietly. She wants to glare at Santana, and she’s giving her a hard look, but she can’t really be too upset with her. She just…she’d told Rachel she’d had sex with a woman fairly early on in college, trying to figure herself out…she’d just neglected to tell Rachel _who_ that woman was. She felt like it would be too messy to admit it had been Santana. She figured she would reveal all the details a bit further into the relationship, when things felt more solid.

But now, it seems, Santana has inadvertently exposed their secret, and she watches them both, trying to finish her food and her drink as she does so.

“If not in high school…when? I thought there had only been that one woman at Yale.”

Quinn smiles ruefully, “I…never actually said it was a woman at Yale,” she tells Rachel quietly.

Rachel’s brow remains furrowed for another few seconds, until her eyes go wide and she hisses, “You had _sex_ with _Santana_?!”

Seeming unable to contain herself, Santana mutters, “Twice,” with a smirk.

Rachel just waves Santana away, her eyes only for Quinn, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Santana scowls, “Yeah, why _didn’t_ you? I figured this was old news between you two now that you’re together and all.”

“Santana, you aren’t helping,” Rachel reprimands a mild edge to her voice. Santana holds up her hands in surrender and polishes off her glass of water, then stands up, fishes some money out of her purse and drops it on the table before beginning to walk away, shrugging into her coat as she does so.

“Really?” Quinn calls after her, “You _coward_!”

 At this, Santana spins around and glares, “Okay, you are _not_ going to pin this on me. I’m sorry I let slip something that for _whatever_ reason you were keeping secret, but this is _not_ my problem. _You’re_ the one keeping secrets from your girl. Fix it, Fabray.”

Quinn sighs in resignation and watches as Santana marches out, then stares at her plate, avoiding Rachel’s eyes.

“She’s right,” Rachel tells her firmly, “You can’t be mad at her about this. _Why_ didn’t you tell me?”

Quinn shrugs, feeling pathetic. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it might make the friendship complicated somehow. I didn’t want you worrying I was going to try to make it happen again, or thinking Santana and I had something going on behind your back.”

Rachel snorts, “No offense but…what?”

“I don’t exactly have the best history of fidelity,” Quinn answers awkwardly.

Rachel is quiet at that, and Quinn takes the opportunity to signal for the check. They remain silent as Quinn pays, waving a hand at Rachel when she reaches for her own purse. They stand up to leave and Quinn awkwardly begins to ask, “Should I…?”

Rachel shakes her head, “Of course not. Come back with me. I’m…not really angry.”

“Not really angry,” Quinn echoes, deadpan. “Okay.”

They’re fairly quiet on the train home, and Rachel keeps her personal space separate from Quinn’s. Quinn feels kind of like an asshole, but really doesn’t know what else to say. She knows _now_ she probably should have told Rachel, but she honestly thought Santana regarded it as just as much of a thing that isn’t discussed as she did. She was _not_ expecting it to come out like it had.

She wishes it had been malicious, too. Like Santana had been trying to tell Rachel she had been there first. But it _wasn’t_. It was Santana’s weird attempt at bonding, her way of reminding them that she was a queer girl too and totally got them.

At least, she’s pretty sure it was. So she can’t be mad at Santana, either.

When they step into the loft, they can hear that Kurt is taking a shower. They take off shoes and jackets and step into Rachel’s corner of the living space. Rachel perches on the edge of her bed, looking pensive. Quinn stands awkwardly next to one of the curtains closing off Rachel’s space, until Rachel looks up at her, dark eyes curious.

“What, exactly…did you and Santana _do_ together?”

“Um,” Quinn says, blushing. “It’s, um. Hard to describe. We did a lot of things.” When Rachel just continues to gaze at her with interest, Quinn asks, “Do I really have to tell you?”

“Yes,” Rachel says firmly, “Because I’m going to be dwelling on it anyway for the next _month_. I can’t _believe_ you had sex with Santana. I can’t _believe_ she got to touch you before I ever did.”

Quinn shakes her head, “It was…what I needed to do,” she tries to explain, “God, it sounds terrible to say this, but I was almost using her, Rachel. I needed to find out if the thoughts and urges I’d been having—mostly for _you_ —actually _meant_ something!”

Rachel’s mouth thins to a line, and Quinn thinks she’s lying about not really being angry, but… “I need to know everything.”

Quinn just can’t have this conversation. It’s humiliating, to try to think back on that sex she had with her _friend_ , and to tell her _girlfriend_ about it. So she says softly, hesitantly, “Can I show you instead?”

Rachel’s eyes flash. “Are you just trying to distract me?”

“No,” Quinn promises, “It will just be easier. And…it will let me make it up to you. For hiding this.”

Rachel’s eyes are narrowed onto Quinn’s face for several seconds until a smirk cracks her stone expression, and she’s reaching for Quinn’s hands, pulling her toward the bed. She leans back, and Quinn ends up straddling her at the edge of the bed. She automatically leans down for a kiss, and Rachel arches into her to respond, but then squirms away, asking breathlessly, “Is this how it started?”

“No,” Quinn breathes, “Or, well. Hold on. Am I me in this scenario?”

Rachel’s eyes flash, “You’re whoever is doing the touching. I’m whoever is getting touched.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Quinn answers, swallows. “Well. First…yeah, okay. I was on top of her, and we were kissing, like this…”

They kiss, and it’s hesitant at first, then a bit more confident, and then Quinn pulls away to mumble at Rachel’s lips, “But that didn’t really last long, because I…” and her hands slide over Rachel’s dress to her breasts to palm them hesitantly.

Rachel whimpers slightly, squirming and arching, as Quinn kisses her neck. “I was impatient,” she breathes, “and frustrated that I couldn’t really touch them. So Santana sat up and pulled her dress over her head.”

Rachel scrambles up and complies. She’s surprised at how much she’s enjoying it. The initial thought of Quinn and Santana having sex produced a rush of jealousy, but now…being privy to this information…she knows she’s getting to see into what was a very formative experience for Quinn, and she feels closer to her because of this. Besides, the way Quinn is touching her, it feels like the first time they made love all over again, except…different somehow.

And now Quinn is hungrily grasping her breasts in both hands, bearing her down onto her back to play with them roughly, excitement evident on her face. Rachel moans, and lifts her body to comply as Quinn removes her bra and, in a state of bliss, lowers her mouth to her breasts.

Quinn’s mouth and lips move awkwardly over Rachel’s nipples, and she lifts her head to murmur, blowing warm air over Rachel’s breasts, “It was about at this moment that Santana asked if I really knew what I was doing and began to slide her hand up my dress.”

Rachel complies with the implicit instruction and begins to hike up Quinn’s dress to grab at her ass, but Quinn reaches behind her to grab her wrist and pull it away. She then purrs, low, “I told her all I knew was what I wanted, and that I wanted her naked.”

“Wow,” Rachel whimpers, and Quinn pins the offending wrist and begins to work down her panties with her other hand. Rachel wriggles her hips, attempting to help in her excitement, but she’s really not sure she’s helping much.

When Rachel’s panties are dropped onto the floor by the bed, Quinn just kneels there and stares between Rachel’s legs. She stares for so long that Rachel begins to feel odd and self-conscious, and wonders if there’s a problem.

Then Quinn meets her eyes, “Faced with an _actual_ naked woman for the first time, I got a little gun shy. Santana wasn’t as patient as you are, and started to huff and say that if I was having second thoughts, it was fine. But then I…”

So drawn into Quinn’s eyes, Rachel doesn’t realize her hand is moving until she feels it stroking her gently, parting her folds to gently explore. She sighs and feels her eyes flutter closed, but Quinn isn’t doing much actual touching.

“I couldn’t believe I was actually touching another woman,” Quinn murmurs quietly, “And I really didn’t know what else to do, so I…”

Without much warning, Quinn slides two fingers inside Rachel. Rachel cries out a bit, but immediately stifles it. She hasn’t really thought about it, but hasn’t the water from Kurt’s shower turned off? He’s probably only yards away in the loft somewhere.

Quinn’s fingers don’t enter entirely smoothly, but she presses inside, and Rachel feels herself clench around them unconsciously. She feels her breath coming out in pants already, and feels her hips writhing, trying to build a rhythm with Quinn’s hand. Quinn begins to press and thrust with her fingers, finally demonstrating some of the skill she’s pretended she doesn’t have throughout this encounter. It’s no longer awkward, hesitant touches; it’s just the way Rachel likes to be penetrated.

“Santana didn’t really have the words to advise me further, because she liked this,” Quinn confides. “So instead of trying to speak, she started touching herself. One hand on her nipples, one on her clit.”

Rachel whimpers again and moves her hands as Quinn directs. For how short this encounter has actually been, for how little foreplay there actually was, Rachel is surprisingly turned on. She tries to focus on controlling her breathing, on not making too much obvious noise, because a sound from the kitchen reveals Kurt’s presence. She chokes off a giggle at the absurdity of it all and meets Quinn’s eyes, which are wider and darker than normal. Quinn smirks, and moves her fingers more purposefully, in a way that makes Rachel’s eyes roll back and her fingers close hard over her nipple. She stifles her groan and Quinn chuckles softly.

Quinn continues with the strong pounding of her fingers until Rachel whimpers, as quietly as she can, “I’m close.”

“Are you?” Quinn asks, mischief in her voice, and she withdraws her fingers without preamble.

Rachel exhales harshly and opens her eyes again to regard Quinn, who kneels on the floor between her legs and absently licks at her fingers, and dries them on the bedspread. She smirks up at Rachel and says quietly, “Santana came from that, but I’m not finished telling what happened, so you don’t get to.”

Rachel’s entire body seems to clench with need at those words, and she shifts her hips wantonly. Quinn’s eye is drawn to the motion and she stares hungrily between Rachel’s legs for a few moments, before looking back at her face and smirking again. “When you’ve controlled yourself, I’ll continue telling you what Santana and I did that night.”

“I’m ready,” Rachel pants, “I can listen.”

Quinn laughs lowly, “Yes, I’m sure you’ll listen closely. Where were we?”

“You got Santana off with your fingers.”

“Yes…she helped herself get there, but my…fucking her,” Quinn says experimentally, “definitely played a part.” Something about Quinn’s use of that language makes Rachel writhe more, and Quinn shoots her a warning look.

“I’m focused,” Rachel assures her, “ _God_ , what else could I possibly be thinking about?” she moans slightly.

The sound of the microwave makes them both abruptly remember why they’re whispering, and they stifle chuckles as they compose themselves once more and block out the knowledge that Kurt is there, and, judging by the fact that he hasn’t even tried to greet them, knows exactly what’s going on in Rachel’s bed.

“So Santana came, hard, around my fingers,” Quinn says, so casually and conversationally that Rachel holds her breath. She looks thoughtful, “She’s _really_ loud when she comes, too, kind of like you, except with more profanity.” She leans over and kisses Rachel then, and murmurs, “But you’ll have to be quiet tonight, won’t you?”

“I will,” Rachel promises.

“Mmm,” Quinn hums agreeably, kissing her again. Quinn allows the kiss to deepen until Rachel hums happily in response, then pulls away, kisses Rachel on the nose, and says quietly, “After Santana came, she pulled me onto the bed and pushed me back onto the pillows.” Quinn gets off of Rachel enough to maneuver her so that she’s propped back against the pillows. “She made some sort of quip about she’d always thought I’d be a pillow princess and then proceeded to strip me.” Quinn quirks an eyebrow and runs her eyes down Rachel’s naked body. “Of course, you’re already there, but being stripped so quickly by Santana was a little overwhelming. I curled up and tried to hide my body from her.”

Rachel imitates how she imagines Quinn would appear in this situation. She has a decent idea, because Quinn had reacted in a similar way the first time they made love. She had been shy, folding her arms shyly the first time she’d bared her breasts, parting her legs slowly, uncertainly, the first time Rachel had touched her there…

Quinn leans over and touches Rachel’s wrists, crossed in front of her, “Santana told me she would stop if I wanted her to, but that she really didn’t want to stop. And when she moved my arms slowly, she stared at my breasts in a way that…that I quite liked.” She stares hungrily at Rachel’s body.

Rachel clears her throat and asks softly, “Question?”

“Hmm?” Quinn responds, still staring at Rachel’s breasts.

“Wasn’t…” Rachel swallows, “Wasn’t Santana naked at this point?” she darts her eyes pointedly at Quinn, who remains clothed.

Quinn laughs lowly, “Yes, of course she was, but this is about _you_.”

“But I like seeing you naked,” Rachel pouts.

Quinn raises an eyebrow, “You’ll be awfully tempted to touch what you like to see, won’t you?” she asks.

“I’ll behave!” Rachel protests, sotto voce.

Quinn laughs again, “Maybe you could, but I’d rather just focus on you. Now. Where was I?”

“Santana was enjoying your body,” Rachel reports automatically.

“Mmhmm,” Quinn hums, “Like I’m enjoying yours. She looked me in the eye before she touched me,” Quinn glances at Rachel’s face before lowering a hand, stroking a finger over her collarbone and then trailing lower to caress her breast with her hand. Rachel arches into her.

“Santana was surprisingly gentle, at first,” Quinn shares as she runs her fingers over Rachel’s nipples. “Until I told her I wanted more.”

“You did?” Rachel pants, “How did you say it?”

Quinn blushes slightly, and murmurs, “I believe I just said, ‘More.’ Breathlessly, like you are right now,” she smiles. “So Santana…” she pinches Rachel’s nipple, hard, and runs her nails down her sternum. Rachel moans audibly, choking off the sound in her throat midway through.

“Santana’s nails were much longer than mine are now,” Quinn tells her, “I later found out she grew out her nails partly to show Brittany that she hadn’t really been sleeping with anyone else, but also just because she likes them long for some reason. They really don’t get in the way of her having sex with women, as I will show you. But that means…” she lets out a shuddery breath, “I _really_ felt those scratches…”

Rachel whimpers, and Quinn leans over to lick at her neck and then bite at her shoulder. Rachel stifles another keening moan, and her body loosens as she begins to writhe. She doesn’t know if Quinn was as wet as she definitely is right now, but she imagines she was. It’s not just being touched, it’s imagining this happening between Quinn and Santana. Santana isn’t someone she wants to date at all, but she can admit she’s attractive, and the thought of the two attractive cheerleaders having sex is…

Quinn’s mouth moves lower, and she’s biting and sucking on Rachel’s breasts, certainly leaving marks with how firm her mouth is being. So Santana is rough…it’s not too surprisingly, really. It had been the first time she’d been with a woman in awhile, she probably lacked some control. And…she realizes now, what about this encounter is so different. It’s like their first time all over again, with how cautious Quinn was before, but now…because Quinn is acting without the clear love that’s there when they make love, Rachel feels a like a sex object.

And it’s a shockingly _good_ feeling.

It feels so _good_ to be wanted in the way that Quinn was. To be wanted for being attractive and feminine and just trusted enough to be vulnerable. It’s a different sort of a first time, not impersonal but casual, not in love, but loved, and she understands now why this kind of experience was so important to Quinn, who sometimes needs to push herself to extremes before she can make herself truly vulnerable.

So while Quinn savages her breasts and grabs her hips to pull her roughly down, parting her thighs with the motion and running nails firmly down the backs on her legs, Rachel lets herself be awash with the pleasure of being _wanted_. _Needed_.

And, she knows, loved, though that’s not the focus of this encounter.

She feels Quinn kissing down her body and she can’t stop the sound that escapes her when Quinn sinks teeth into her hipbone. “And then Santana did what she assured me she does best,” Quinn whispers, and, after a moment of hesitation, she lowers her mouth between Rachel’s legs.

Rachel slaps a hand over her mouth, because there’s no stopping the deep moan that escapes her. Quinn has never done this to her before. _They_ haven’t done this, and it’s new and incredible and elating and…

At first, she registers clearly the way Quinn’s mouth encompasses her, a hot kiss, and the way her tongue swirls over Rachel’s clit. And then it’s as though her mind can no longer keep up, and she only becomes aware of pleasure and sensation without being able to track what exactly Quinn’s mouth is doing. Except that it’s hot and wet and _so_ intense.

Rachel is biting her palm to keep from moaning unabashedly loudly, and she’s barely aware of the way her hips are rolling upward and against Quinn’s mouth. Quinn’s hands had been running nails down her stomach and tweaking her nipples, but now they stay in place, one wrapped around a thigh and the other attempting to steady her hips as she works her mouth over Rachel’s clit. A glance down shows that Quinn’s eyes are closed, probably mostly in concentration, though a light moan from Quinn indicates in pleasure, too.

And abruptly, Rachel feels that dipping sensation, low in her stomach, and because she’s covering her mouth to stay quiet, she can’t verbalize it, not that she thinks she’d be able to anyway, so all she can do is take her other hand and grasp Quinn’s hair, firmly, pulling a little bit more and more to express that she’s getting closer and closer until—

She’s coming, and there’s no holding back. She has no sense of her volume, and only hopes that the hand still clamped over her mouth is doing _something_ to cover the noise, but there’s sound from Quinn, too, moans muffled against Rachel’s core, that grow deeper the harder Rachel pulls on Quinn’s hair in her ecstasy, as Quinn struggles to keep her face riding along with the bucking of Rachel’s hips.

It’s not until Rachel is flopping back against the pillows again that she has a real sense for the way her back bowed and arched as she came. Her hand falls away from her mouth, hot and damp with saliva, and her fingers uncurl from Quinn’s hair. Quinn raises her head slowly from between Rachel’s legs and wipes at her mouth with her hand, then licks her lips and smiles.

“It sounds like you enjoyed that,” she observes triumphantly.

“I…” Rachel struggles to collect her thoughts and compose her words, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Quinn blushes a little, “I…wasn’t really expecting it, myself. I was really nervous and didn’t know if I felt brave enough to do it. I’ve wanted to…”

“So have I,” Rachel agrees, “I just wasn’t sure how to…initiate it.”

“Me neither,” Quinn nods, “But this really was a good opportunity.”

“Well,” Rachel grins, “Maybe I can take a turn now. Since Santana has been there, it’s completely unfair that I haven’t!” But she’s smiling now. She’s not really jealous of Santana anymore. She has what Santana never had and never wanted: Quinn’s love.

Quinn’s eyes gleam, “Oh, but don’t you remember? Santana and I did this twice. There’s still _much_ more I want to reenact for you this evening…”

Rachel forgets to breathe for a moment.

“Although,” Quinn amends, “Perhaps we can modify this reenactment.” Quinn smirks, leaning over her again, “I am going to need to _make_ you be quiet, after all.”

“And how will you do that?” Rachel challenges.

Quinn just grins and begins to take off her dress. Rachel’s eyes widen.

She hopes to God that Kurt has headphones in tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional A/N: Title from Tori Amos, “Pretty Good Year.”


End file.
